


Fights

by GrilledBeer



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Attempt at angst, Fights, Gen, sanji giving zoro a super cold shoulder, your everyday zosan fights, zoro baiting sanji
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-07
Updated: 2016-04-07
Packaged: 2018-05-31 21:55:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6488908
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GrilledBeer/pseuds/GrilledBeer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It pleased Zoro that the cook never failed to react to any of his baitings. Or at least until he stopped playing fair, i.e. Thriller Bark.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fights

They all started with such simple things.

“I bet you can’t reach the seafloor, ‘cause you’re a wuss.”

The cook was the best swimmer among them, probably because he technically grew up on a ship — or ships. He swam like a fish, his body cutting through water so carelessly it was uncanny. He was really fast underwater, perhaps because he didn’t have much mass to begin with. It might also have something to do with the power in those legs — that idiot could walk through air, after all. But Zoro could hold his breath longer, which was predictable — how could a smoker’s lungs compete with those of someone who did physical training on a daily basis? As they plunged deeper, the cook’s speed decreased. When the swordsman eventually overtook him, he noticed how the cook looked more and more uncomfortable. In the end it was Zoro who reached the rocky formation. He grinned satisfactorily, making sure not to gulp water in as he watched the cook kick furiously to propel himself towards oxygen, having come quite close to their underwater goal.

“You won’t be as big a smartass when I beat the shit out of you.” 

Zoro took pride in the fact that he could hold his own even without his swords, and he did not doubt for a second that his punches packed power. That said, the cook’s heavy kicks were so quick they were almost undetectable — and Zoro found himself on the ground, the wind knocked out of him, before realising what just happened. If that bastard was good at something it was speed. The swordsman had taken heavier hits from different attacks before, but he almost could not intercept those kicks sometimes. Zoro was lying flat on his back as the finishing blow came down, just to stop short of inflicting any real damage. That, and the stupid grinning and bragging, was beyond annoying.

“Idiot, as if _you_ could hold your liquor.”

They did a drinking competition (and not eating, because the idiot claimed he was against the idea of stupidly gorging oneself with food, but Zoro was of the opinion that the guy knew he’d lose). There was nothing to say about that. It was a clean and easy victory for Zoro. That’s the East Blue heredity for you.

 

It was always Zoro who threw out a challenge with a straight face, and the cook never failed to take it up. Zoro could always effortlessly bait him, that idiot being the fighty bastard that he was.

It was silly to admit, but what kept Zoro riling him up time and again was the pure satisfaction that came out of each of their fights.

Like when the cook passed out with his head on Usopp’s lap after his third bottle of local wine. The swordsman could only scoff.

Like when the idiot looked so proud of himself when he thought he had taken Zoro down, just because Zoro had blundered _for once_. 

Like when he climbed back on deck and found the soaked nakama flat on his back, coughing as he tried to gulp air in too quickly. Zoro himself was panting, but as he stepped over the cook, he couldn’t resist giving him a kick in the side. Playfully. Or at least by his definition. A smile tugged at his lips as he felt the cook glared daggers at him but was too busy breathing to reciprocate.

 

Or even in the act of taunting itself.

“Oh, that guy? No, he wouldn’t take me on because he knows he’s gonna lose.”

They were in a tavern. Luffy was still digging into dish after dish of meat. Zoro who had finished eating long ago was caught in an arm wrestling competition. After he’d beaten the man who was said to be the strongest in the village and broken a few wrists, someone just pointed to the cook, who was observing the competition, a cigarette in one hand and a glass of red in the other, and suggested that he give it a try, being the green-haired man’s shipmate and all.

It was something that had never happened before. The unspoken rules were clear: never hurt the cook’s arms, and the cook was never to damage his swords…not that he could if he tried anyway. The idiot knew that it had to take someone of Franky’s strength to beat Zoro in an arm wrestle, and that he himself did not stand a chance. Zoro knew he was crossing the line here, but he’d already said it. He watched as the cook’s frown deepened, a look of deep indecision came across his face for one whole second before it was gone, and his eyes shone with defiance. Zoro watched as the cook’s mental lever finally put ‘not backing down from Zoro’ below ‘saving his precious hands’.

And the swordsman enjoyed every moment of it.

As the cook sat down on the other side of the table, facing him, Zoro’s smirk only widened. 

The cook ground out, “Bring it on.”

“Ho, acting reckless now, are we?”

“As if. You’re just one photosynthetic brute.”

But after a millisecond of doubt, the idiot added apprehensively.

“I swear, if you do a permanent damage, I’ll skin you.”

How pathetic. Despite his brave gestures, the cook was resigned to defeat. 

But Zoro was not one to go easy on anyone, let alone this dumbass. He curled his lips.

The idiot put his arm on the table and squared his shoulders. Zoro locked hands with him. The cook’s arm was only minimally muscled — an arm of someone who knew how to use it… The wrist in Zoro’s hand, although by no means womanly, felt frail to the touch. Like it'd break once he applied pressure.

Zoro gripped it with everything he had.

The cook looked at their linked hands like someone who was determined to do something extremely stupid that he’d regret later. His grip was equally firm, however.

That gave Zoro immeasurable satisfaction.

“Right. Ready, set…”

Predictably, something came up to intervene their fight of all fights.

As they were about to get down to it, a shout erupted within the tavern.

“That hat… You’re Straw Hat Luffy!!!”

After that there was an uproar. People were pointing at their captain, who was still munching away on his last meat on the bone. The men who came to assist the competition scrambled for weapons, while the women screamed and fled, dragging the children with them.

They both stared at their still locked hands. The cook did not pull away immediately, too proud to be backing out of a challenge — Zoro’s challenge — though a look of evident relief crossed his expression.

Sparing the cook the embarrassment, Zoro pulled his hand away and grabbed his swords.

“You’re lucky this time, cook.”

“Shut up.”

That was alright. Zoro already got what he aimed for after all.

 

Then Thriller Bark happened.

Conversely, it was the cook who put up the challenge.

“Too bad, but you'll have to find a new cook”

That was when Zoro adjusted his grip on the sword and knocked the hell out of the barely standing cook.

It was a necessary foul play. For Zoro, at least.

 

They were never the same again after that. They still carried on with their petty fights, but something had definitely changed. 

Zoro hadn’t known that at first.

“Heh, cook, hope you haven’t wasted two years chasing skirts. Let’s see who can take down most of these small flies.”

They were on Fishman Island. The swordsman was counting on showing off his improved speed and attack range — he could now take down multiple opponents at the same time and in a large area. He was quite confident that he was also as fast as the cook — the last time he’d met him, which was two years ago, at least. The idiot would be mortified.

To Zoro’s utter surprise, the cook just shrugged and turned his back to him as if to say he didn’t care.

It baffled Zoro.

His brains desperately tried to supply explanations for it. Was the cook still weak from all the blood loss and the beating that he had endured since they arrived? Was he sure that he was going to lose, like that time?

Was he just completely indifferent, like he appeared to be?

The challenge was already thrown out, but nobody picked it up. _The cook_ did not pick it up.

It had never happened before.

And showing off his new skills on his own would be like playing the game that he had set up, which would make Zoro a big idiot.

The swordsman looked at the black-clad back again. It was still unmoved and stubbornly refused to reveal anything to him.

For the first time, Zoro simply did not know what to do.

Zoro’s baiting just stopped working.

He vaguely suspected that it could have been because of himself.

 

In the end, it was Luffy who took down most of the fish folk. Not that it mattered, anyway.

Zoro did not get it, whatever he was aiming for.

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I've been working on this fic for a long time, guess it's time to put it out! Hope you all enjoy it and please let me know what you think :)
> 
> Disclaimers: Everything belongs to E. Oda and team. Except the silly plot.


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